


Sparks And Kindling For A Cold, Cold Fire

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Series: (Octopath) Tumblr Prompt Fills & Ficlets (SFW) [2]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 11:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: Sometimes you have to take each other apart to make the pieces all fit back together, again.(Contains some very brief spoilers for events in Alfyn Ch 2/3 and Therion Ch 3.)





	Sparks And Kindling For A Cold, Cold Fire

It was embarrassing, really, how long it took for him to realize what the problem was. 

He had noticed, of course, the way Therion always pulled into himself a little further, presented himself just a little bit pricklier, any time they found themselves returning to the good old dusty canyons of the high Cliftlands. It was impossible not to. The second the foliage began to give way to red rock and the road tipped up into its inevitable steep incline, Therion would pull that purple cover he wore full up over his nose, cross his arms, and fix his eyes straight down onto the path before them. All his typical sarcastic commentary and teasing jabs evaporated, replaced with monosyllabic grunts, and the higher they climbed the less likely it was that he'd bother to respond to anyone at all.

Everyone had just assumed it was because of his personal business. They all knew he was sore about what had happened to him at the Ravus place, that he was embarrassed by it, that he resented having to check in and report his progress. 

Except the more Alfyn watched him, the more he thought the problem ran deeper than only that. 

It wasn't just Bolderfall, for instance. If anything, their long overlay in nearby Quarrycrest only made him even more recalcitrant. Without specific business to attend to personally, Therion spent most of his time waiting impatiently around what passed for the city's ground floor, begging off potential adventures and spending as much time locked firmly away indoors as he could. When Alfyn tried to ask him about it, he was rebuffed -- harshly -- in a way that just didn't match up with how things had been between them not even a week prior. It was like all the progress he'd made chopping through those walls of his had been undone in a day. It had mystified him, at the time. Maybe even hurt his feelings. Just a little. 

But once they were out, trudging back into the Riverlands together, it was like time miraculously rewound itself again. The waterfalls became rapids which in turn became wide, sluggish stretches of river, and with the change in scenery the tension seemed to drain out of the line of Therion's shoulders and the tight set of his jaw. Soon enough he was busy teasing Tressa and arguing with Cyrus and whispering furtively with Prim about things Alfyn dearly wished he could bring himself to eavesdrop on, because he was fairly sure at least some of their secret conversations were about _him._ And he would have given a lot to know just what sorts of things Therion said about him in confidence to other people. Gossipy sorts of things. He hoped at least some of them were good. 

He swore that Therion was actually flirting with him, sometimes, but he was an idiot about picking up on things like that, so he couldn't be sure.

He found himself taking mental notes, studying Therion just like Cyrus did his books, like once he had this thing in his head he just couldn't let go. He'd keep his eyes peeled, watching for that telltale bulging jaw and downturned gaze like they were pieces of an incomplete jigsaw he was fixing to finish. The Highlands caused it now and then, when the road began its long, twisting path through the peaks, the air growing thinner the higher they climbed, mist that might have been low-hanging clouds clinging to the air around them. The Snowlands, too, especially when they found themselves wading knee-deep in fresh powder by the cliffs, or crossing old bridges over steep passes between the mountain valleys. He kept his cataloging up almost unconsciously, even as time wore on and the maybe-flirting became definitely-flirting, and the definitely-flirting became near constant companionship, teasing and touching, stories exchanged late into the night and long silences that felt increasingly comfortable. Even as Alfyn began to stitch together Therion's past and realize his feelings for him were a little deeper than he was ready to admit. 

Highlands, Snowlands and Cliftlands, and still it somehow took him until after the fiasco at Wellspring's black market to put it all together. They were just starting up that familiar path north from home when it clicked for him, all at once, and his jaw fell open at how simple the solution actually was. 

Therion trudged beside him, head down, quiet since that fella he'd seemed to know -- Darius -- had outwitted them all and made off with the two remaining dragonstones. He had his hands tucked under his cloak, his mouth turned down into a thoughtful little frown, and a crease between his eyebrows that made Alfyn want to -- well -- grab his grumpy face and kiss him silly. Just go ahead and kiss him all over, cheeks and chin and nose and forehead, until he was laughing and squirming and slapping him halfheartedly away with that heart-squeezing look of absolute wonder he got to wearing whenever he seemed to realize that Alfyn really did like him a whole lot, prickly or no. 

But he'd just had an epiphany, so he put all that aside and asked a question, instead. "Therion," he began, urgently, marveling at how perfectly all the pieces of his theory were fitting together. 

"What," Therion said, and if he sounded a little irritated, well, that was how he _always_ sounded, wasn't it?

"Are you afraid of _heights?_ " 

Therion snapped his head up so fast that Alfyn actually took a startled step back. Therion's eyes were wide, and he looked -- _afraid?_ \-- but an instant later the expression was gone, replaced with narrow-eyed, thin-lipped scorn. "What? No. I -- Why would you even ask me that?" 

"Well, I mean. It's just, there's this..." he gestured vaguely, feeling suddenly sheepish. "There's this way you get about you, Therion, and I just now realized -- Well, I dunno. If you say you're not --" 

"I'm not," Therion said, flatly. "Leave it." 

He pulled his scarf tight around himself, quickened his pace, and didn't speak more than a few words to him after that for near a full long, lonely week.

When he was finally ready to talk again, they were camped atop one of the high red canyons he seemed to hate so much, and Alfyn was busy poking at the fire, feeling confused and put out and all around pretty sorry for himself. The others had gone to bed for the night hours before, and Alfyn had done his level best, but between the trouble with Therion and the trouble he'd had first in Goldshore and then in Saintsbridge, his thoughts were just too jumbled. He couldn't sleep a wink. So he'd come back out to poke and prod and maybe pout, too, just a bit. 

He was so busy with this that he didn't hear Therion approach at all, so when he flopped down right beside him with an irritated sigh, Alfyn jumped near out of his own damn skin.

"Good -- _grief,_ " he gasped, half-scrambled a good foot away, heart racing. "You about scared the soul right out of me, there, Therion, warn a guy!" 

Therion just looked at him, one eyebrow quirked up, and even the scarf he'd so carefully pulled up around his face couldn't fully hide his amusement. "Sorry," he said, in a tone that said he plainly wasn't. 

Alfyn grumbled to himself, scooting himself back to where he'd been sitting cross-legged in the dirt. Therion hesitated a full second or so, and then he scooted in, too, leaning up against Alfyn's side. Alfyn slipped an arm around his skinny little shoulders, squeezed him tight, and then bit his damn tongue to keep his gums from flapping when he knew perfectly damn well the best thing to do in moments like these was give Therion time to start talking on his own. 

He didn't wait long. Therion sucked in a sharp little breath, and then words just started falling out of him, quiet and toneless. "I don't like heights," he started. "You were right about that. I had an... accident, once, not so far from here, and it sort of stuck with me. I don't like talking about it. I shouldn't have ignored you just because you guessed it, I mean, it's pretty fucking obvious, isn't it? I didn't expect to ever actually stick with anyone long enough for anyone to pick up on it. So." He shrugged, and Alfyn noticed that he never took his eyes off the fire. He just stared straight ahead, like he was giving a speech he'd rehearsed, and Alfyn knew him well enough by now to know that the things he was saying weren't exactly a lie... but they weren't the whole truth, either. 

Questions piled up behind his teeth. An accident? What had happened? Had he been hurt? Why? _How?_ But he also knew Therion well enough to know that a barrage like that would just send him packing for another week or more, and that was the last thing he wanted. So he kept his mouth shut nodded like if that was all Therion had to say, it was perfectly fine by him.

But Therion kept talking. "I know everyone has been wondering what exactly happened, back in Wellspring. What that was. _Who_ that..." he trailed off, and Alfyn sat there baffled for five long seconds before he realized in a bolt of absolute, stunning clarity that the accident Therion was talking about and the guy in Wellspring were related, and a sick little seed of suspicion began to bloom in his guts. An accident, huh. He held his breath. The urge to ask questions was overwhelming. 

Therion shot him a little look, the first time he'd taken his eyes off the fire since he'd begun to speak, and -- shockingly -- he _laughed._ "Alfyn," he said, elbowing him hard in the ribs. 

Alfyn let his breath out in a noisy rush. "What!" 

"You're being -- ridiculous, what the fuck, were you holding your _breath?_ " 

"I am trying not to _interrupt_ , you know, there's this thing some people have? They call it manners?" 

" _Manners_ , right." 

"And you can be a prickly guy, sometimes, and you know that, so I'm trying not to do anything to set you off!" 

"Hah," Therion grumbled. He muttered something unintelligible. Then: "Am I really that hard to deal with?" 

Alfyn opened his mouth. Closed it. A beat of silence filled the space between them full to bursting. 

Therion sighed. "Yeah. I guess I am. You know, I don't know why you do it." 

"Well, I don't mind it, mostly!" 

"For now," Therion agreed, softly, and Alfyn furrowed his brow and shook his head, hard. 

"Therion," he said, talking fast. "You can be as prickly as you want, I'm not going anywhere." 

"Sounds reasonable," Therion said, his tone utterly opaque. "Really fair to you, definitely." 

Alfyn wasn't sure _what_ to say to that, so he did what he'd come to think of as the safe thing where Therion was concerned, and said nothing. He _did_ give him another little squeeze around the shoulders, though. That was like to get his meaning across as well as anything. Therion swallowed audibly, tucked in all warm and close against him, and then he shifted, slowly, until he had his own arm slung low around Alfyn's back. Alfyn smiled, and Therion tucked his knees up under his chin and refused to look him in the eye. 

They sat like that, half-holding each other in companionable silence, until the fire started to burn low, letting the night chill settle under their skin. 

"So, Darius," Therion said, eventually. "We used to... work together." 

"Thievin' and such." 

"Yeah." 

Alfyn nodded, slowly. Therion shrugged. "I owed him for something. We were together a long time. It ended badly. Wellspring was the first time I'd seen him, since..." 

"Since the accident," Alfyn said into the ensuing quiet. 

Therion glanced at him. Dropped his eyes. "Yeah," he said. 

"And now you don't like heights so much, anymore." 

"Yeah." 

The fire popped. Alfyn thought about him, that man, Darius -- the sneer on his face, the malice in his eyes, the way he'd spoken to Therion like they were best friends gone bad, only he'd gotten the better end of the deal. The way he'd expressed surprise at the fact that Therion was alive at all. There was a cold fire burning in his belly. Vanessa Hysel had been the fuel, and Miguel Twinspears the spark that set it alight -- but this Darius fella was like a fistful of noxweed thrown onto the flame. He felt a little sick with it, and Therion hadn't even told the whole story. So how must _he_ have felt? 

He kept shooting him little nervous glances, watching him mull it over, like he was worried it was all going to somehow reflect bad on him. 

"Therion," Alfyn said, slowly. 

"What?" 

"I'm not gonna let that guy hurt you again," he said, and Therion tried to flinch away from him, but Alfyn had already anticipated that and held him tightly in place, shaking his head. "Listen here. I'm done with just standing by and letting rotten people get away with rotten things. You got that? I'm _through_ with that. People who hurt the people I care about are gonna get the surprise of their lives if they think I'm just going to stand by and let it go on because of some stupid, naive idea I had once about savin' everyone. Ogen was right! Some people just... they don't deserve saving." 

Therion let him finish, but when he was done, he'd gone tense as a bowstring beside him. 

"Alfyn... You know that _I've_ done my fair share of rotten things, right?" 

And just like that, the cold fire and the false bravado it brought with it guttered right out. Alfyn made a frustrated sound, almost like a little growl, and whipped around toward him, and just for a second Therion's eyes snapped open wide, shining with naked terror, like he thought he'd -- like he _actually_ thought Alfyn would ever -- 

" _Don't,_ " Alfyn pleaded, grabbing him by the shoulders, pulling him close. "Don't you look at me like that, Therion, Gods -- _damn_ you, don't you dare. I wouldn't hurt you. I know it's not that easy! I know it's not _simple_ , all right, I know. I'm just trying to make sense of it all, it's all jumbled up in my head in a million pieces, and --" 

"Sorry," Therion breathed, sliding his arms around to clutch right back at him. "I know. Sorry. I didn't mean... ah, Gods, Alfyn -- _fuck_ , I know." 

"Okay," Alfyn whispered, pressing his face into Therion's hair. 

"I know. I do." 

He nodded, wordlessly, breathing deep. Therion shifted against him, made a small, indecipherable sound, and then began to run his fingers slowly up and down his back, soothing. It was the sort of thing Alfyn usually did for him, the other way around. He took another deep, shivery breath, and then he slumped backward, pulling Therion right up into his lap. 

He didn't resist it. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Alfyn's neck and balanced himself on his knees, looking up at him with a different sort of worry etched into his expression, now. Alfyn touched his face, and he flinched away like he always did, at first. Then he closed his eyes and nodded, and Alfyn ran his thumb down the curve of his jaw, tilting his chin up just so.

"I'm going to kiss you," he advised him, in quiet, matter-of-fact tones. Therion's eyes fluttered open, and he gave him an exasperated look. 

"Yeah," he said, flicking the back of his head hard enough to sting. "No shit! Any day now, Alfyn, preferably while we're young --" 

Alfyn leaned in, laughing, and kissed him quiet, kissed him thoroughly, kissed him until they were breathing hard together, faces red and bodies squirming, desperate to be closer, closer. When he finally pulled back, Therion's lips were wet and glistening in the moonlight, commanding all of his attention still. He wanted to kiss him until the sun came up and the others found them there, tangled together by the smoking remains of their forgotten campfire. 

Therion licked his lips. Alfyn exhaled sharply. Therion laughed at him, tugging the tuft of hair he wore tied behind his head. "This isn't going to solve anything," he said. "In fact, it might just make it a whole lot more complicated." 

"Might be," Alfyn agreed. 

"It's probably a bad idea." 

"I don't care." 

Another quiet laugh. "You might, in the morning." 

"Why? If I pick you up and carry you back to my tent, are you going to run off first thing in the morning and leave me for good?" 

"I --" Therion licked his lips again, and swallowed hard. He shook his head. "No," he breathed. 

"Then, like I said..." 

Therion's mouth quirked into an absolutely hypnotizing little smile, and how was Alfyn supposed to help himself, exactly? He leaned in and kissed him again, and simultaneously, he slid his hands around and grabbed two handfuls of Therion's backside, pulling him against him. "Hold tight," he murmured against his lips. 

"What? Now, hold on, you are not actually going to--" Therion started, but Alfyn wiggled his eyebrows at him and leaned back, bracing his hands in the dirt, and Therion cut himself off and laughed breathlessly. Then he wrapped his legs obediently around his waist, locking his ankles at the small of Alfyn's back. "If you pitch me over into that fire, I'm going to fucking kill you," he said, somehow managing to sound deeply sincere and strangely cheerful, simultaneously. 

Alfyn grinned at him, and then he hooked one arm around Therion and used the other to push himself up to his feet with a grunt of effort. Therion made an appreciative sound, Alfyn rewarded himself with another blatant, glorious grope, and they kissed the entire short distance back to Alfyn's waiting tent, and the meager sort of privacy it provided. 

Not nearly enough, as it turned out -- but they wouldn't find that out for a few hours, yet.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to prompts received on my Tumblr, which you can find at [@sealticge!](http://sealticge.tumblr.com)


End file.
